


Fate AU: Morgan Le Fay

by Drakenier



Series: Fate: Lostbelt AU [1]
Category: Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, And a Great Many punches in the Face, F/F, F/M, Life was hell, Made a lot of irresponsible decisions though, Morgan needs a lot of therapy, Not exactly the Artoria we're familar with, Obsessive/Incest Love, She screwed up a lot, and a lot of hugs, surprise at the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakenier/pseuds/Drakenier
Summary: You all probably know my story. Or at least, a lot of different accounts of it. You have never heard, 'my' story, as I'm a Morgan you've probably never met. If so, then you're very lucky. That means I didn't end up ruining your life as well, whether by accident or intentionally.
Relationships: Morgan le Fay/Artoria Pendragon | Saber
Series: Fate: Lostbelt AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026483
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. I am Morgan

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is my first time posting a fic here on AO3. Hope it goes well. I have a Fanfiction.Net account, refer to me there as, 'Venomous Blade.' If you've read my recent work, you'll probably know what this story is about.

If you’re reading this, you may know who I am, or at least, you may have heard of me. You may have heard of all of us really. The stories of which are rather contradictory and befuddling if I have to say so myself, since I’ve managed to investigate them all by now, but it’s only natural that no one may have any understanding of the full picture. We all make mistakes, and our biases can affect our decisions, such turbulent souls such as us. Some of you may call me Morgause, others Morgana, or manage to call me by my true name, Morgan.

You’re probably familiar with the Arthurian Legends, the tales of ‘King Arthur,’ Merlin, and the Knights of the Round Table. Most of your texts have very different accounts of me. Your earliest texts have me as a benevolent healer and kindly older sister of the Once and Future King, as well as a loving mother to my children. Later ones have me as a villainess seeking to bring down my younger brother at all cost, to the point that I abuse and sacrifice my own family for the sake of my selfish ambitions. Why, well that also depends. Some versions portray me as starting evil but transitioning into a more heroic soul who seeks redemption by the end as I take my dying sibling to be healed. Others portray me as a tragic character, one whose motivation varies. Some versions have me acting out of a desire for vengeance due to the crimes of Uther Pendragon, other times I’m an innocent soul corrupted and turned to evil, and in other versions both Arthur and I are simply people on opposing sides fighting for our different views. I honestly don’t mind as some of these I find rather sweet, some have grains of the truth. There is one version though that I particularly didn’t like…

Calm down Morgan, T. H. White’s story isn’t awful, even if I find how he wrote Mordred, Agravain, and I incredibly offensive. Yes, because I obviously sexually molested my children and tormented them so… relax Morgan he is dead and even if he would return from the dead it would be very wrong to kill him. At most, just sit down with him and explain what he got wrong…

As for that writer who portrayed me sympathetically yet turned out to do the very things White accused me of doing to her children, is she ever comes back to the dead, I’ll personally arrange a very suitable torture for her to go through. Of all the things to do to children…

The villainess versions of me tend to be more widely known, and of that, I understand why. I am not proud of what I did. In many ways I am the same, in many ways I am worse, and in ways I not as bad, but then again, this is just another version, one you probably won’t believe since it comes from me.

If you do know my story, you’re probably not likely to hold me in high regard, and I cannot blame you. They probably hate me… and they should, for how I failed them. I never meant to, truly I didn’t, but I can’t forgive myself, and I can never. She… says I am better than the… others, yet that isn’t high praise, and I am no better. I would’ve produced the same result as they did… but what does that matter now?

Then again, all these stories tend to have my younger sibling… as a man?! Well, I wouldn’t put it past an ‘Arthur’ existing in some alternate timeline. I myself am not even supposed to exist, quite ironic how I do. My sibling was Artoria Pendragon, my younger sister who gave up her future to serve as the King of Knights. You’re all probably fans of… at least some version. Probably never met ‘my’ Artoria. I wonder if alternate versions of myself exist. If so, it may be a rather bloody meeting…

I suppose I should stop boring you. Before our time ends… I will share to you my story, the story of Morgan Pendragon, of Morgan Le Fay. Princess, Queen, mother, adulteress, witch, traitor, I am all these things and more. Before I fade away, let me share with you my story, my birth, my life, my fall, and the events that would make my life far different than my contemporary versions. Whether you like me better than them is up to you, I will not blame you.

…

We’ll start at the beginning of both myself, and the events that may have spelled out how my dear Artoria and I would have fallen apart ourselves…

…

…  
It was a rather sunny day in spring. The grass was shining green, the birds chirping and fluttering through the air. People were busy, as they often were in such older days. Townspeople were carrying fruit and transporting animals, trying to get through their lives. The castle had seen better days, it had been badly damaged from battle over the years, especially the one that had occurred only less than a year ago. Now however, things were beginning to change. Workers went to fix the stone walls and halls of the castle; the Kingdom slowly being rebuilt. It would be an arduous and trying time for many.

For a certain two that now stayed in the castle, however, it could not be a happier time. Especially for the woman as she held the newborn soul in her arms. She had almost died of illness in the winter. Thank goodness her child did not suffer that fate. A small tear when down her face as a servant brought her love to see their little miracle, “Uther, my lord.” She said in a tired and gentle manner, “Come and see.” The woman smiled.

Much like her, the man could not be more than in his early 20s, 22 most likely. In contrast to her chocolatey dark hair and blue eyes, his hair was golden, his eyes green. He approached her anxiously, cautiously, as though he were approaching a monster. She rolled her eyes at his nervousness, “Come here and hold her, you fool.”

At her behest, he caved, carefully taking the infant wrapped in a blanket and holding her in his arms. “I was worried she wouldn’t survive.” He cracked a smile as he heard her sleepy, yet happy laugh. Clearly, the infant was ready to sleep soon enough. “She’s beautiful.” Uther said quietly, “What should we name her, Igraine?”

Igraine rested down on her bed, “Will ‘Morgan’ be a suitable name?” She asked.

Uther smiled, “It’s perfect,” He looked at his first child with warmth, “Morgan Pendragon, you don’t know how happy I am, to welcome you now.”

“This is a miraculous day my friend.” Uther turned to his friend, having come with him and the servant, “We should have a celebration to commemorate this day.”

Uther sighed, “Not now, friend Ector.” He looked at his daughter, “We’ve only just managed to survive the winter. The people are struggling, and the Kingdom needs to be prepared and defended. We must gather our strength while we can.”

Ector sighed, “You speak just like your brother. I know that Camelot belongs to him by birthright, yet even so, take the time to enjoy this while you can, and convince him as well.”

Uther shook his head, “Vortigern and I both viewed our Father, Ambrosius, as invincible before Camelot was plundered and usurped from his reign. It has taken us over 10 years to retake what was stolen from us.” A somber look took his face as he handed Morgan back to his wife, “I cannot allow the same life to fall upon our child.”

Igraine gently stroked Morgan’s cheek, “Take heart, my love, and have faith. Our daughter will be the great Queen she is meant to be.”


	2. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The older brother of Uther Pendragon returns to their Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, had to hold back on updating because of finals, and then updated my story on Fanfic.net with 2 new chapters. Finally can update this one now. Time for us to meet Vortigern. Hope you enjoy :)

As dawn began on another day, the King had finally arrived, having been away for so long. The townspeople watched in wonder, curiosity, and awe as the black steed confidently galloped through the streets, its rider’s aura intense and powerful, like a sword striking through the wind. His unkempt blonde hair was somewhat dirty, his green eyes fierce and striking, his gaze serious and foreboding, as though it were still in a battle. Several knights followed him, covered in armor and helmets, their squires following on foot beside them. They made their way through the peasant streets, and past the houses where the nobles lived, all to approach the castle. A castle he had went quite far to reclaim. Nobles stood to the side and bowed with respect as he came to a stop, his horse whinnying with relief. It had been quite a long ride. 

He saw a few familiar faces, or he thought they were familiar, along with plenty he did not know. Sorting out those who could be trusted and those he would be sure to kill in due time. His expression did soften when he saw someone kneeling by the castle, waiting for him. He did not have too many guards, so there hadn’t been any attacks, he supposed. He wondered if the child was alive, well he would learn soon enough. “It seems things have been well in my absence.” He spoke.

“Of course, King Vortigern, as if I would let things fall to ruin so quickly.” His face rose as he grinned, “Welcome back, brother.”

Getting off his steed, he uttered a single word and flourished his hand, and Uther, along with several other nobles and knights, rose accordingly. “Carry on with your duties, the castle needs to be rebuilt, the walls must be fortified. Our enemies will not wait until we are ready for an attack.” At once, the soldiers and nobles departed, some to see family, others to go about their duties, and some for more pleasurable activities…

The 2 brothers however, made their way back into the castle, one that they could call home again. Several areas were burned badly, due to the tyrant Malignant setting it aflame during their final attack to end his life and finally take back the kingdom during late fall of the previous year. A final spiteful attempt at destroying what little was left of their old home. Of course, what had not been burned was changed so much, Vortigern was not able to recognize it as the castle he had walked through as a child. If this had not been Camelot, he would have believed it to be a foreign castle.

There was no mistaking it however, in spirit, Vortigern knew this was it. He could feel a certain weight and spirit to it, a certain heaviness and knowledge. The spirits and memories of those days could still be felt, and he could…

_“You have to run now my son!” The blonde-haired woman began as the pounding of footsteps got even louder, her hair illuminating with the fire from the torches. “They will spare no one, not even you and your brother! Leave and do not come back here!” She cried, and then commanded her guard to take him when he refused, his hand outstretched towards her, “Please, do not seek revenge, just protect yourself and your brother!” Those were the last words she said before an arrow pierced through her throat._

_‘Do not seek revenge, just protect yourself and your brother…’_

_Brother… brother…_

“Brother, are you awake?” Uther shook him as Vortigern continued to faze out. Blinking twice, the ruler of Camelot awoke from that nightmare… and back to the present. It had been quite a long time since then. “My liege, is something wrong?” He asked again, concerned as he saw a glimmer of pain in his older brother’s eyes.

Vortigern shook his head and sighed, “Nothing Uther.” He hadn’t listened to their Mother that day. Yes, he would protect his brother, but after that, what kept him going in their forced exile was a single thought, a single wish: to murder the usurpers that had murdered their parents and denied them of their lives. He was already skilled with a sword back then, and this furious obsession to crush his enemies had driven him to forge an army of allies and sympathizers to strike back at Malignant, with Uther as his right hand. 

One could say that he had become just as ruthless in his vengeful quest, but Vortigern did not care for their feckless posturing. His rage had started with Malignant, but he became aware that Malignant was just one of many invaders who thought nothing of killing them if it meant their growing power. If Vortigern and his allies had to fight just as ruthlessly in order to take back what was theirs’, then so be it. Compassion was not going to bring the Saxons to stop, nor their dragon… he shook the thought out of his mind.

Deciding to try and think about something else, a thought came to his mind, “Igraine and your child, how are they? I know she was do in some time.” He asked, his brother’s face changing into a smirk as he chuckled.

“Let me show you.” Uther said, and he guided his brother through the castle to one of the smaller rooms. He was a lot happier now, so Vortigern supposed there was good news. A surprise, to be sure, after Igraine had fallen ill over the winter, he had believed they were both soon to die. Deciding not to say anything as Uther stopped at their destination, his brother spoke, “Dear Igraine, our King has finally returned!” He said proudly.

As they entered the room, Igraine smiled at them both, a tired and weary expression on her face, covered in a cloak and blanket, with a few gray strands of hair, “It is an honor to see that you’ve returned safely, my liege.” Igraine said politely. Being called King was rather strange, to say the least. True, Vortigern had been the next in line for the throne after his father, Ambrosius, but it felt off for him. He still felt like a soldier rather than a true King. 

Warding off that thought, he decided to focus on the small bundle of laughter that was held in her arms. Going to one knee to get a look at her, he eyed curiously, “A girl?” He asked.

“We named her Morgan, after that old healer from Cornwall,” Igraine stated, “Isn’t she beautiful?” She cooed as the little Morgan burst with laughter, lifting its little arms up.

A small grin came to Vortigern’s face, “Yes,” he eyed his niece with contentment, then sighed, “it is good she is a girl, if it were a son, you would likely be targeted.” He stood up, “We don’t know where the next assassin will come from.”

Igraine looked at Vortigern with worry, “But you killed Malignant’s loyalists, who would dare try to attack the Pendragon brothers? Your names are well known throughout all of Britain.”

“I only killed the loyalists brave enough to fight us, there are likely those that still remain.” Vortigern replied, his mind elsewhere, “Besides, Malignant was simply one of many enemies we have to bring down. Lot and his brothers are still struggling against the Saxons. You know how they view us.” He didn’t even need to look at them to know the worry in Igraine’s eyes or sense the tension in Uther as he placed a hand on his sword. “Once they know their ally was killed, they’ll be looking to take back Camelot. It’s far too important strategically to lose.” He placed a hand on his forehead, “Not to mention the White Dragon they have. That beast could scorch Camelot in only mere minutes. For all we know, they’re already on their way to kill us, they could strike at any time.”

Sensing the tension in his brother, Uther spoke, “I already spoke to Merlin about this. The Saxons won’t turn their eyes on Camelot for months, and the White Dragon is not completely loyal to them either, so we have a chance.”

“Did he say that before or after he decided to visit the brothel?” Vortigern asked, a smirk on his face, Uther chuckling in response while Igraine rolled her eyes. He sighed, “Even if he is right, we cannot stay idle. If they are disorganized and have their eyes elsewhere, we need to know what they are after and prepare a strike. If not, we will not last long.”

Uther bowed with respect, “Understood, my liege.” He then went to his wife and child’s side, “Still, take a moment to relax. We haven’t been home in so long. Our parents would not want us to work ourselves to death.”

Vortigern eyed the family, his family, for a moment, and groaned in defeat, “Perhaps some wine could be in order.” He shook his head as he saw Uther grin, good lord this was childish. Still, Vortigern would admit, it was not bad…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to big, I know, after the next chapter, I'm pretty sure the plot will start moving after that, will have to wait and see.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that starts this story. This will be part of a series based off my work on Fanfiction.Net. I'll still be updating that story as usual, but you can consider this version on AO3 to be the updated version, telling the story in more detail, and with greater knowledge of what happens. With that being said, I hope you can enjoy the twisted life of Morgan Le Fay :)


End file.
